Alice in Wonderland: The Song of Tears
by Lina-Baggins
Summary: An ancient magick has been invoked in Underland and has put both Alice and the Hatter's life on the line. Can Tarrant summon the courage to answer the Song of Tears, despite the Oraculum showing that it will almost certainly lead to his death?
1. Chapter 1: She Has Made The Call

The thundering footsteps were the first real sound that the castle at Marmoreal had heard in nearly nine months. McTwisp's furry paws pounded the white marble as he slipped and slid around corners, taking stairs three at a time. The cacophonous dash roused Thackery from his place at the long table in the dining hall, where he had fallen asleep in a cup of tea. Mallymkun raised her head as the rabbit zoomed past the doorway. "Oy! Where do you think _you're_ going? You haven't had tea yet!"

"TEA!" At the mention of the beverage, Thackery hurled the cup he had been napping in at the rapidly disappearing white tail. The cup smashed on the wall, leaving a streak of sticky, brown liquid dripping down to the polished floor. It was barely seconds before a small frog appeared with a cloth, bucket and tiny mop to clean up the mess, part of the crew _always _on hand during Brilig. McTwisp didn't turn, didn't stop, but shouted back over his shoulder.

"Find the Hatter! She's made the call!"

As the pair scrambled to their feet and tore off in the direction of the garden, McTwisp raced along the final stretch of corridor and burst through the doors that led into the throne room. The assembled members of the court started slightly at the raucous manner of his entrance, but retained their air of pleasant curiousity. Nivens McTwisp straightened up, caught his breath for a moment and walked calmly towards the throne.

Things had changed in nine months. The White Queen had regained her dominion in Underland and much of her lands had been restored to their former glory. Even the chateau at Witzend had been rebuilt, although the Hatter had refused to live there again. Too many memories, he'd said. Time was still sore over his transgressions regarding _her_ absence the first time to give him enough to deal with them. These days, the queen had taken to entertaining visiting diplomats there, in the hopes that new memories could expunge the old ones.

Perhaps... perhaps he was still waiting for her at the old windmill. The rabbit cursed himself for not thinking of that. He should have sent Bandy to look for him, or perhaps Bayard. Chess wouldn't have been any help at all. Perhaps he'd gone for good, this time. The last time he'd gone wandering, Mally and Thackery had found him on the outskirts of the Outlands, calling her name blindly and wandering in circles with a teacup in his hand.

But they could fix things now. She had made the call.

Nivens approached the throne and knelt before it. Mirana, radiant in silver and white gossamer, inclined her head gently, the afternoon light glinting off the crown. "What news, McTwisp?"

"My queen, it is a matter of urgency. I request a private audience."

The queen's dark eyes held the gaze of McTwisp's own red ones. It was moments such as this one that Nivens believed that those eyes could see through anyone... to their very soul. What she found in the rabbit's appeared to be enough to make up her mind. "Very well." The queen stood fluidly and surveyed her court, giving those present a sweet smile. "If you could excuse us for a moment?"

The room emptied swiftly. No-one considered for a _moment _denying the queen's request, because... well, she was the Queen. Not in the way that the Red Queen had been, oh no. Mirana's reign had been peaceful, for the most part. Teatime was usually a bit noisy. Nivens followed the White Queen from the hall and back through the corridors to the kitchen where she kept her laboratory. Private audiences were usually held in her chambers, but those present on the Frabjous Day were always taken to the kitchen. McTwisp had noticed, not by chance, that whenever Tarrant Hightopp had appeared at court, Mirana had always spoken to him in the kitchen and, until today, he'd never understood why.

Now he did. She'd been _waiting_. He was sure of it.

The door swung shut behind them and instantly Mirana pressed her ear to it, listening intently. When she was satisfied no-one was listening in, she turned to the rabbit. "If you are about to say what I think you are about to say, I need to know this. Were you followed?"

"Not that I'm aware of, your majesty."

"Has anyone else knowledge of this information?"

"Only Thackery and Mally... and I'm not certain that even they know the full implications of this."

"What of Tarrant?"

"I sent them to find him."

The queen visibly relaxed, sweeping over to her workstation. "I am glad of that. I can only hope that they find him quickly. Has he been to the old windmill again?"

"Everyday this week, my Queen. I think he's still looking for the table, or at the very least... waiting for her to arrive."

Mirana frowned gently. "Oh, _botheration_! I _knew_ we shouldn't have moved it to his quarters."

"My lady, he requested..."

"I'm well aware of what the Hatter _requested_, Nivens. What I'm concerned with is his state of _mind_. From the reports I've received, it isn't getting any better."

McTwisp's ear twitched and he twisted his paws together rather nervously, feeling uncomfortable. "It's not likely to, either, my lady."

Mirana gripped the edge of the table. "Then it's true? You have proof?"

The rabbit nodded and reached into his pocket. From it, he retrieved a small, wooden box that he laid on the bench and opened carefully. Inside was a small piece of mirror – barely more than a shard of glass – that seemed to be vibrating. A high-pitched note rang out into the room, not very loud, as if someone had rubbed a wet finger on the rim of a wineglass. Nivens closed the box as Mirana closed her eyes and breathed deeply. "Then it's true. After all this time..."

"She's made the call, your majesty. Whether she knows it or not, Alice has invoked the Song of Tears."

* * *

The breeze blew gently, catching locks of tumbling, tangled orange hair and playing with them as their owner stood in front of the old windmill. Illusions slipped before his eyes, taunting him – an elaborately set tea table, the sight of Mally throwing sugar at Thackery as he smashed cups left and right... a tiny, blonde girl giggling; her face covered with chocolate cake, waiting patiently for another cup of tea -

It changed; the tea table was split and broken, the scones stale and the tea almost cold. The girl was gone, replaced by a young woman of astounding beauty and radiance. He felt the familiar knot in his stomach, the strained smile stretching his face painfully.

"I'm glad you're back, you know that I always hoped you'd come back..."

_Hatter..._

"... and I said to myself that you'd come back because you _said_ you'd be back..."

_Hatter!_

"And you wouldn't forget to come back because you said you wouldn't and now you have and..."

_HATTER!_

Tarrant Hightopp, the Hatter employed by the White Queen and Steward-Champion of Marmoreal, looked down at Mallymkun tapping her foot irritatedly.

"... I'm fine," he wheezed. The visions disappeared and he looked about him. "Where...?"

"The old windmill, you great galumphing fool! You've been here all afternoon and now you're _terribly_ late for tea! It's _well _past Brilig!"

The windmill creaked behind him in agreement as Tarrant reached into his pocket and fished out the old pocket watch. It was ticking, but slowly.

_Oh Alice... _the Hatter thought miserably as he replaced the watch and smiled sadly at Mally. Not only was he seeing her in his daily delusions as well as in his sleeping hours, but now Time was going slowly, bent on torturing him_. Come back to me! _"I suppose I'd better come home with you, then? Can't stay out here forever, you know."

"Well, you _could_, but I'd advise against it. McTwisp sent us," Mally said, pointing over at Thackery, who was scratching at the bare dirt where the table used to be. The March Hare looked up and giggled madly as the Hatter caught his eye.

"Such a pretty song... sing-sing-song-song," he rambled, pawing at the dirt. Tarrant narrowed his blazing green eyes and turned back to Mally.

"What's he talking about?"

"Don't know, just been sent to bring you home. Same as usual."

"Mally..."

The dormouse shifted her weight from foot to foot. "The rabbit... he's found something. We're not just bringing you home, we're to take you to your quarters and make sure you stay there until the Queen arrives."

"Who told you this?"

"'Tis been our orders since Frabjous Day. If the call is made, bring him home to wait for further instructions," Thackery stuttered in a rare moment of lucidity. Tarrant's eyes flashed between the two of them and settled back on Mally, burning a fearsome orange and when he spoke, the dark burn of a Scottish brogue licked every word.

"D'ye not _think _tae tell me o'this?"

"We... we couldn't! We swore we wouldn't! We took an oath to the White Queen!" Mallymkun squeaked, tripping over her own paws as the Hatter advanced, darkness surrounding his eyes. A sinister grin appeared on his face.

"Weeell, ye've now _gut _what ye came here for. Am I tae follow y'home to Marmoreal, tae wait until some wee scuttish _urpal_ has the dignity to to summon me? _AM I_?"

"HATTER!" Mally shouted, stomping her foot again. Tarrant's eyes returned to their normal shade of green. He bowed his head in shame and clutched the sides of his face.

"... too crowded," he mumbled. "Too much noise."

"Thackery, we have to get him home... _now,_" Mally whispered. The March Hare looked up from his spot on the ground.

"Sing-song-merrily-song," he chanted softly, before climbing to his feet and bounding over to the Hatter with a leaping gait, taking his hand gently. "Time to join the dance, Hatter!"

"Dance... she did love to see me dance..." Tarrant whispered as he was led away.

* * *

Mirana was a patient woman, but it was almost unendurable to wait out the Hatter's return to Marmoreal, especially in light of the recent events. Not that she hadn't been expecting them. On the Frabjous Day, she'd seen the look that passed between her Champion and her Hatter and had come away knowing that one day the call would come. What she hadn't expected was the length of time it had taken to do so.

She moved to the centre of the room, circling the table in way of a distraction. It had been repaired carefully in recent months and was now laid for a lavish afternoon tea, a high-backed chair at the head of it that still bore the scars of years of overuse. It had been one of two parts of the furniture retrieved from outside the windmill that Mirana had been forbidden to repair. The other was _her_ chair.

The White Queen had understood this. Tarrant had wanted it to stay mostly the same, to have a shred of her left behind. He wanted what remained of Alice to be _close_... as much as it could be. It worried her that one of her oldest friends and most loyal of subjects was suffering in his madness. She had been incredibly frightened when Mally had returned with him after his wanderings to the Outlands. On that day, she had sat by the mirror, listening for any sign... anything that might tell her what was yet to come.

_You make the path..._

It was the old piece of wisdom that Absolem had given her in the days before she was the White Queen, when Princess Mirana worried if she was doing the right thing by challenging Iracebeth's right of ascension. She had come to the wise old caterpillar, distraught, questioning the accuracy of the Oraculum. Who was to say that Iracebeth would not make a better queen? What right had she, as the youngest, to try and take the crown from her sister?

Mirana smiled to herself, examining a spoon. It wasn't difficult to imagine how Alice must have felt upon learning she would have to slay the Jabberwocky. The Oraculum had its ways, there was no doubt of that. It saw what you were capable of and made you fear it, avoid it, scorn it and deny it... but in the end, you accepted it.

"Ye wanted to speak to _me_, yer Highness."

Mirana turned to find Tarrant in his own doorway. He staggered into the room, passed the Queen and lurching as he went, before tumbling into the old chair at the head of the table. The Hatter lifted his head and looked her square in the eye. "Ye have me now. 'Tis time ye tole me what ye should'a done on that there chessboard."

"Of course," the White Queen said softly, taking a place at the far end of the table. As Tarrant poured a cup of tea, she pressed her fingertips together and watched him carefully. "Tarrant, what do you know of the old magick that guards Underland?"

He sipped his tea, turning the cup in his hands. "'Tis ancient, that. Hightopps once knew the ways that sealed this place off. Talk tells that the Hightopp clan were the ones responsible for the seals, tho' it be diff'cult to prove suchadays."

"I'm not talking just of that, Tarrant. I'm talking of the magicks that protect the people."

The teacup sat itself back down unsteadily, rattling a little on the saucer. "Many spells protect the people. Ye ken that, w'ya bein' _quin_ an' all."

"I do. Tell me, Hatter... have you any knowledge of the Song of Tears?"

Tarrant shoved the chair back from the table violently and pitched his half-empty cup at Mirana's head. A thoughtful bow of her pretty head was enough to keep the contents of the missile from striking her and instead it collided with a tapestry hanging on the far wall. The Hatter's eyes glowed like hot embers. "Ye _dare_ come to me with _that_? Ye, who kept a watchful e'en on me _mind_ as it fell apart? Ye, who bound the mouse and the hare to perform their duties? Ye, who spoke with the rabbit and as such as no' taken counsel w'_me 'till now_? YE BRING ME THUS?"

"Hatter!" The White Queen was on her feet, her face darkening. The mad milliner quailed under the fury that rolled over him in waves. Mirana, realising her mistake, seemed to shrink and fade... until she was the gentle, benevolent woman she always appeared to be. "I – I apologise. I should have spoken with you months ago. I saw the warning signs, but I held onto the hope that -"

"What? That Alice would come back?" The name passed tremulously over his lips with a slight lisp and Mirana gave an internal sigh. There was some hope, then. The Mad Hatter bowed his head. "I still hope. I see her, everywhere. I hear her voice and her laugh and smell that lovely perfume she wore..."

"Tarrant, I'm afraid she can't come home."

The silence was thick with the words that had come from the Queen. Then a sharp sob cut through it like a hot knife in butter. The last of the Hightopps sank into his chair, squeezing his eyes shut and clutching his head, rocking back and forth. "Oh... oh oh..."

"Tarrant, listen to me! You _must _hold on, for what I'm about to tell you is important!" Mirana was at his side, pulling at his arms, forcing him to turn his head. He dared _not_look at her, for fear of what he would see in her face. Eventually, the White Queen managed to drag the chair to face her and lifted his chin. "Tarrant, you must look at me."

The Hatter's eyes opened like flowering emeralds. "Take it back," he begged in a hoarse whisper. "Take it all back. Alice _can_ come home, she must! She said she would!"

"You _know_ what the Song of Tears is, don't you?"

Eyes closed again. "No... no... can't... 'tis forbidden..."

Mirana tipped his hat back gently and kissed his forehead. "Not in this case."

"... mustn't... can't... 'tis _wrong_... she _can't_ know how! She never _learned_!"

"Perhaps, in this case, she didn't need to. Perhaps the magick recognised her?"

"Then she's not _really _an Abovelander..." the realisation set in and Tarrant looked up in surprise. "You think she might not be such?"

Mirana shook her head, a look of defeat on her face. "I do not know. She has no lineage here, but there may be Underlander in her yet. It is one of two possibilities."

"I know the other possibility, your Ladyship. If she knew, do you think she...?"

"I do not think she would have done it knowingly or, if she _did _know, have done it willingly." The Queen looked around and lowered her voice. "Have you heard anything _unusual _lately, Tarrant?"

The Mad Hatter gave her an incredulous look. _Unusual_? This was Underland! Unusual was...

Commonplace. Everywhere.

She wasn't asking for the odd or insane. She was talking about something that didn't quite fit. Something that was wrong. Something that wasn't quite right. He put his hands to his ears. "Much too loud, lady. Much too crowded. Much too... much."

"I thought so." From the folds of her skirt, Mirana withdrew a small hand mirror and held it out to him. "It doesn't sound like much to me, but I want you to listen."

Tarrant took the mirror gingerly and held it to his ear. He grimaced. "Thackery heard this... _can _hear this. He can hear the song."

"Tell me."

"Pain... my lady, notes of pain. Sadness, misery, longing, loneliness... so many tears..." Tears of his own were rolling down his face. "Oh... oh... I can't bear... can't... can't bear it..."

"Can you hear anything else?"

"I can hear her crying, over and over and over... the tears are the music... I-I-I can't sit here and just... just..."

"Just a little more, Tarrant... can you hear what she's saying?"

"Can't... don't want to hear... can't bear to hear her crying..."

"Please." Tears were tumbling from the queen's own dark eyes as she watched the Hatter breaking down, shivering and shaking with his head pressed to the glass. "Please, can you hear what she's saying?"

"Calling... she can't find her way home... got... got to save her..." His eyes snapped open. "Alice!"

"Hush!" Mirana whispered, placing an arm in front of his chest to catch him before he pitched forward gently towards the table, removing the mirror from the side of his head. "It's okay. Everything will be fine."

"But she can't... where she is... she can't..."

"_You_ can."

"I..."

"You can hear her. You are the only one who hears her."

"The Hare hears her."

"Thackery hears the song, not the words. It is the blessing of his madness, I wager." Mirana stood up and hid the mirror back in the folds of her extravagant dress, taking her seat once again. Tarrant frowned.

"How long have you known?"

"McTwisp brought me the proof this past Brilig. A mirror smashed in the Round Room and a shard caught the attention of a valet, who brought it to McTwisp."

"How did he know what he was looking for?"

"My dear Hatter, I may have been lacking in providing you with the necessary support, but please – you question my intelligence?" Mirana tutted. "I have seen this as a possibility since the Frabjous Day. McTwisp was the only one I trusted enough to remain alert for the proof. Mallymkun and Thackery were told enough to hold them to their word, nothing more."

"And me? What is my role in this?" The hurt look on Tarrant's pale face was enough to cause the Queen to examine her teacake carefully. "When were you planning to tell me?"

"I had hoped that Alice would return before this was necessary, but events are in motion now that cannot be changed. The Oraculum has been consulted and it is confirmed."

"What is?"

Mirana chewed the cake thoughtfully and swallowed. "Come now, you know the Song of Tears. Alice has made the call. Her Champion must respond."

"It doesn't necessarily mean..."

"Tarrant Hightopp, are you a coward? Your Alice _needs_ you, has sung the Song of Tears and you _sit_ there, cowering in your chair, making excuses that it 'doesn't necessarily mean' you? How _dare_ you, sir! I will _not _have a Steward-Champion sit before me when his Alice needs him!" Mirana realised that her voice had progressively raised in volume until she was shouting at the Hatter. The corners of his mouth drooped and he fiddled with his cravat.

"I... I need a moment," he whispered.

* * *

The cherry blossoms danced in the breeze and dropped their petals into the Hatter's hair as he sat and toyed with his top hat after rushing out on tea with the Queen. _The Song of Tears? Is that why she was always in his mind just recently?_

"That is a novel way to wear a hat... I would never have thought to wear it on my paws." Tarrant looked over his right shoulder to see Chessur materialising. The cat floated over and rested his paws on the Hatter. "Word has it that you could use a friend right now."

"I could use some peace..." Tarrant mumbled, replacing the hat on his head. Chess rolled over, waggling his paws in the air.

"It seems to me that you are too concerned with who you are and who you are not. I know someone else who was like that once."

"That same person needs me to know, needs me to be. The question is, what should I know? Who do I need to be?" Tarrant sighed and leaned back against the tree, tipping the hat forward to cover his eyes. "These riddles, Chess.. they get harder everyday."

"This is unlike you, Tarrant. You _love _riddles. You know, I rather thought that things would settle back to normal after Frabjous Day."

"I am... not myself. I feel... partly lost. Like a part of me has going a-wandering. I sent the other half of me looking for it not too long ago, but I only got as far as the Outlands before I was brought back."

"Yes, I was told. You should have asked me to come, I could use the exercise." The droll statement had no effect on the Hatter. Chessur frowned briefly, circling the man's head. "You really _are_ lost, aren't you?"

"I can hear the singing, Chess. All the time and I can't ignore it but what can I do, I'm just a Hatter and I can't do anything to help her here and I..."

"Tarrant!"

"... thank you," the Hatter rasped. Chess studied him as he sat up and straighted his hat. "What should I do, Chess?"

"I think... I think you need to _remember_ who you are, not seek it out. What you have done. Who you are to Alice."

"I'm just a Hatter..."

"Exactly. You are_ just_ the Hatter who, when she rode to war, picked up his broadsword and followed her onto that field without a second thought. You are _just_the Hatter who stood next to her as she was flooded with fear when the Jabberwocky appeared. You are _just_ the Hatter who waited thirteen years for her to take tea with you again. You are _just_ the Hatter who can hear her calling out to you. You, sir, are just the Hatter she needs."

Tarrant looked at the cat incredulously. "You... really believe that?"

"I don't have to be the one who believes it," Chessur purred, vanishing into the dusk. The Mad Hatter paused for a moment, before scrambling to his feet and striding off in the direction of the castle. _I once accused Alice of losing her muchness_, he thought, his face burning with shame. _What would she say if she could see me now_? _What has become of __my__ muchness_?

* * *

McTwisp paced the empty hall, fiddling with his white gloves. The sun had set and the moon hung high over Marmoreal as the rabbit fidgeted nervously at the foot of the throne where the White Queen sat. Mallymkun poked him in the toe with her pin-sword, causing him to leap into the air and grab his foot with a yelp. "Settle down, you great nervous wreck!"

"Settle _down_? I'm supposed to _settle down_ while that _insane_ Hatter is galumphing around out _there_ with a mind half full of Alice?"

"I prefer _Mad _Hatter. Just for future reference," Tarrant said quietly, standing in the doorway. Mirana stood smoothly, a smile on her face as the Hatter moved decisively towards her. Mally jumped out of the way as Tarrant knelt before the throne, head bowed. "I have finished my thinking, my lady."

"You needed to think?"

"It is a lot you are asking of me and I wasn't sure whether I was to be worthy of such an undertaking... that is to say that such an undertaking is only to be undertook by those who are truly worthy and that the one who really _is _worthy cannot undertake this because she is..."

"Hatter!" All three present shouted. Tarrant stuttered to a halt.

"... sorry."

"What is your decision, Tarrant Hightopp; Court Hatter, Steward-Champion of Marmoreal and Underland?"

Without looking up, Tarrant spoke to the floor. "I've been lost, your majesty. I have lost my muchness."

"Everyone loses their muchness now and then. Have you found yours?"

"Not yet, but I believe I will. You see, I'm just a Hatter. But a friend showed me just what kind of Hatter I am."

"And what kind of Hatter are you, Tarrant Hightopp?"

"I'm the kind of Hatter who would follow a girl into battle with his broadsword and bad temper. The kind of Hatter who would stand by a friend when they needed support. The kind of Hatter who would wait _forever_ just to take tea with the ones he loves. The kind of Hatter who cannot ignore a cry for help, wherever it comes from." He looked up, eyes ablaze with green fire and a determined grin on his face. "I'm the kind of Hatter I'd want me to be... and that's the kind of Hatter Alice needs."

"Tarrant... _at last_," Mirana breathed as Mally and McTwisp cheered and the Hatter climbed to his feet. The doors behind him opened again as Thackery bounced towards him, dragging the old broadsword he had taken to battle on Frabjous Day. Affixing it to his own back, Tarrant drew himself up and threw his shoulders back. When he spoke, his brogue had returned.

"I, Tarrant Hightopp, the last o' the Hightopp Clan, d' hereby present meself afore the White Queen of Marmoreal as her Hatter and Steward-Champion in the stead of Alice Kingsleigh, bound by the vows and oaths taken forthwith. I would nae decline or refuse that which she asks o' me and in kind, she watches o'er me." He leaned forward, his voice lowered to a dangerous rumble.

"Now tell me, _what has happened to my Alice_?"

* * *

_Author's notes_:

I've been reading _One Promise Kept_, which is magnificent. If you are enjoying this already, I would heartily recommend that. I own nothing but the general storyline and the idea of the Song of Tears. I adore Johnny Depp's Tarrant Hightopp and would very much like to learn to Futterwacken. Any notes of praise or criticism would be most appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2: The Backwards Path

Chapter Two

"We are here, more and less, because of what took place on the Frabjous Day."

After relocating to the library, Mirana took in those seated before her. Tarrant occupied a large, comfortable armchair close to the flickering fire, while both Mally and Thackery sat at his feet. The broadsword sat leaning against one arm rest. McTwisp sat on an ottoman closer to the Queen herself. Mirana drifted over to a bookshelf and retrieved an antiquated tome. She opened it to a particular page and beckoned to the Hatter. "This concerns you, Tarrant. I'd very much like it if you would read this." The man in question got to his feet and crossed the floor to her, taking the dusty book from her hands. As he read, Mirana continued her story.

"There are many magicks that protect Underland, you all know this. It is why only a chosen few make it here..."

"Like Alice?" Mally asked. Mirana nodded.

"Like Alice... and why even fewer Underlanders venture up the rabbit hole."

"Or drink Jabberwocky blood?" McTwisp asked, his eyes flickering to the Hatter. Tarrant kept his eyes on the book, but thumbed the page a little more forcefully that he meant to. The White Queen caught the movement from the corner of her eye, but ignored it.

"Jabberwocky blood has... unusual properties. It takes you where you need to be. When I told Alice that the Jabberwocky blood would take her home if that is what she chose, I was partially correct. But - " at this point, the White Queen turned and faced her Hatter, " - I believe that she didn't wish to be home."

At this comment, Tarrant closed the book with care and met Mirana's level gaze. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"You weren't speaking out of turn when you called her _your _Alice, Tarrant. You are the only one who has ever called her that. Of all her friends in Underland, she trusts you the most... cares about you the most. She was willing to risk herself to save you from Salazen Grum at the cost of diverting from her path."

"She... she thought I was important."

"But you _are _important, Hatter." The company looked at Mally, who was trying to dislodge one of Thackery's large feet from his left ear. The dormouse looked around at them all, as one who had hit upon a concept that should have been well known. "Well, he is! He mustered the resistance in the first place! Before Alice came back, it was Hatter who was saving Underland! That whippet of a girl only had to hang onto the Vorpal Sword!"

"Mally, _please_!" McTwisp implored as Tarrant's eyes darkened. Mirana laid a hand gently on the Hatter's shaking ones.

"Mallymkun is right. Alice only finished the battle, it was our own, dear Hatter who had been fighting it. But nevertheless, we needed Alice as much as she needed us... one of us in particular. One who believed in her when no-one else she met did." The White Queen took both of Tarrant's hands in her own and opened the book to the page he had been reading. "Tarrant, if you would."

The Mad Hatter cleared his throat and looked away from Mally and down at the passage. "It's... a record of one of the ancient magicks to protect Underlanders. This one speaks of the... the Song of Tears."

"Sing-song-merrily-merrily," Thackery chimed in, pulling his offending foot from his ear and executing a rather accomplished somersault, landing at Tarrant's feet. The Hatter's hands began to shake again.

"The song... the song is a last resort link to Underland, or one of it's peoples, should a resident find themselves in unendurable agony or misery. The song is supposedly only heard by the one who has the closest affinity with the one who made the call." All eyes fixed on Thackery, who went cross-eyed trying to look at himself.

"Such... such a pretty song..." he mumbled. Tarrant turned to Mirana, who in turn was watching the March Hare intently.

"Why can he hear it? He _shouldn't _be able to hear it _at all_! The magick doesn't work that way!"

"I think," Mirana replied in a half-aware murmur as she observed Thackery's absurd acrobatics that took him back to the fireplace, "that our dear March Hare might have a few answers of his own." She followed the tumbling lunatic until he crashed into a wall, reached out and righted him so he would understand what she was saying. "Thackery, this song you've been hearing..."

"Sing-song-singity-merrily," he giggled, pulling at his ears. Mirana smiled kindly at him and nodded.

"That's the one. You know that Alice is the one singing, don't you?"

"Such a pretty song... so sad, so sad. Can't find her Hatter and now she's going mad."

"Thackery, _why can you hear the song_?"

The question rang out in a resonating voice that caused the Hare to vibrate. Tarrant had never seen the Queen use this tone on anyone, even during the Red Queen's reign. Thackery sat up, his back straight and looked at Mirana, his head slightly to the side. "The Earwickets have been here since the beginning of Underland... since imagination first came to be. Families of rabbits came and went..." at this, he cast a rolling look at McTwisp, who found himself feeling guilty, "... but the Earwickets remained. Always here, always here. Listening to the world above and weaving the dreams. But sometimes, the nightmares got through. We needed help... the Hightopps sealed this place off to save us, what was left of us. Set us free. But there were Hightopps caught on the other side of the divide, calling for their clan. So they left a gap in the seal, the rabbit holes, to bring them home. But they were lost... lost in the Aboveland. So we helped them, as they once helped us, to write the Song... the Song that would bring a Hightopp home."

"But Alice isn't a Hightopp," Tarrant murmured. Thackery blinked at him.

"You claimed her as _yours_! The magick recognises her as a Hightopp! _You_ made it possible for her to sing the song!"

"But why can _you_ hear it?" The Hatter was screaming now, tears pouring down his face. _Had he really brought this upon his Alice_? The March Hare stood up, fury in his eyes.

"Because _I'm_ the fail-safe! I _can't _leave Underland! I am smoke and mirrors to them! If there is not a living Hightopp to bring the lost home, the Earwickets must _find_ a way!"

"Thackery," Mirana soothed, stroking his ears. At this gesture, the March Hare crumpled to the floor and began giggling.

"Sing-song-ding-dong..."

The White Queen stood up and faced Tarrant, who was mopping at his face with a clean, monogrammed handkerchief, the book closed and in one hand, as he continued muttering to himself. "It's my fault, it's _all_ my fault, I should have never, never, _never_..."

"Tarrant."

"... ever have said _anything_, I should have just stayed away, shouldn't, shouldn't, _shouldn't..._"

"_Tarrant_!"

"... fine," he coughed, stuffing the cloth back into his pocket. Mirana moved to his side and wrapped his hands around the book.

"My dear, I want you to take the book with you. Read it, learn from it. It has been in the Marmoreal library for generations and I think it is high time a Hightopp took it back. There are tales within the pages that come from your own clan history and you should be the one to have it."

The Hatter tightened his grip on the book and pulled it against his chest. "I... I'll look it over, my lady."

"Tarrant, you must be the one who decides what to do next. I cannot force you to do anything against your will. But I know you won't disappoint me. I know you won't let Alice down."

The last of the Hightopps watched as the assembled group dispersed, following the White Queen from the room. He sighed, crossed to the chair he'd been sitting in and slumped down into it, pulling the book away from his chest for a moment to study the cover. A beautifully inlaid, ornate 'H' sat in the dusty leather. Long fingers gently caressed the crest as his eyes burned with unshed tears.

"Claimed as a Hightopp," he whispered to himself. _When _had she become _his _Alice? It seemed like so long ago. Maybe as a child... that laughing, beautiful little girl who smiled at him in wonder as he poured the tea and told her stories of the White Queen's court... or maybe as a woman, who looked at him in puzzlement as he dragged her across the table, stuffed her into a teapot and carried her by hat. When she had tried to rescue him? When she had been there for his return to Marmoreal? That night on the balcony? The Frabjous Day? _When_?

"Forever and always, of course."

He didn't look. He knew he couldn't. In the back of his troubled mind, he knew what this was... and his eyes squeezed shut. "You're not here."

"I'm very much here to you. Everywhere you look, everywhere you go... there's always something that reminds you, isn't there?"

"Go away. There's too much madness in this head for any more."

"Ah, but I'm always there, aren't I?"

"Precisely why you should go away. I don't need you cluttering up my mind."

"I'm practically the _reason_ your mind is cluttered, aren't I?"

"No..."

"Don't lie to me, Tarrant. I can see inside your head. It's the reason why I know you can't open your eyes and look at me."

"I don't have to look at you. You're not there. You're just madness poured into a shadow of a dress that I remember."

"Then I'm real to you. You'll wake up and I'll disappear." A soft chuckle and Tarrant felt a coldness in his chest. "Isn't that a familiar line?"

"Stop taking her words and _twisting_ them!"

"But I can, can't I?"

"Stop it!"

"Then _look_ at me, Hatter. _Look at me_."

Tarrant gripped the book and forced himself to open his eyes. Misty though his vision was, he saw the girl standing in front of him; a frightening spectre in a blue dress and bedraggled blonde curls, face warped and twisted – as if someone has stirred it with a stick, like paint - with large cat's eyes of oaken-brown. The smile was feline; the small, pointed white fangs protruding from the mouth were digging into the lower lip and causing rivulets of blood to smear the face. "Do I surprise you?"

The Hatter scowled. "Every time. You never fail to sink to new lows."

The illusion sneered, then changed the tone of voice it used. When it spoke, Tarrant nearly howled in misery. "Dear Hatter, I'm lost... so lost. Find me... find me... find me..."

"Stop using her voice! I _know_ you don't have to! Have _some_ pity on me!"

The not-Alice sneered and took a step closer, relishing the reaction in Tarrant as he tried to climb up the back of the chair to get away. "You know I can't. You created me."

"It's not me, it's not me, it's not me," Tarrant sobbed, holding the book up like a shield. The not-Alice laughed coldly.

"You think your words are going to protect you, ancient and dusty? You don't even have the strength to face me _yourself_!"

The book lowered and the not-Alice found itself looking into toxic orange eyes. Eyebrows of a darker hue lowered and a snarl appeared below them. "Ye have no' the _right _tae take her form, ya beastie. I'll thank ye to no' tarnish _her _memory in my _presence_!"

Tiny fangs withdrew from the lip, curling into a cruel smile. "Ah, the Outlander will face me with his words, but the Hatter dare not. Fine. But you and I both know -" it was fading now, " - that I _will_ be back." The vision disappeared, but the voice left a soft echo. "I'll see _you _again, Tarrant Hightopp."

The only sounds in the library after the incident were the merry crackling of the flames in the grate and the heart-wrenched sobbing of the Mad Hatter.

* * *

"Do you think he'll go through with it?"

Mallymkun watched as McTwisp sipped a cup of tea in the kitchen. The white rabbit carefully ignored the question, much to the dormouse's annoyance. She stuck her pin-sword into table and placed her hands on her hips. "I said..."

"I know what you said, Mally. I was just ignoring you."

"But why?"

"Because right now, I don't want to cast conjecture on the Hatter's mind."

"Then you think he won't go through with it?"

"I think that either way, it's got to be his choice and that given that choice, he won't let Alice suffer in misery. If he goes... up top, then he can end the song _and_ rescue the Champion. Isn't that good for everyone?"

Mallymkun was silent for a moment as Nivens finished his tea and began nibbling on the small, square teacake he had left on a plate nearby. "I wouldn't go."

"Pardon?" The crumbs of the teacake flew from the rabbit's mouth as he tried to reply. "Wouldn't go where?"

"To Alice. I wouldn't save her."

"Mally!"

"I wouldn't!" She pulled the pin-sword out and swished it through the air, defeating an invisible foe. "If it was me, I _wouldn't _bother going! She can't sing that song forever, can she? She'll forget... and then the madness would stop."

"Did you stop and think that it might not be _just_ the song driving the Hatter to distraction? Did it occur to you that he might actually, _genuinely_, miss her?" Mally fell into a quiet grump as McTwisp finished the cake and gave her a stern look. "I thought as much."

Mally stabbed the pin at a fallen crumb. "Stupid girl. Why'd that great lump have to go and get his heart all twisted up in his head?"

"I don't think he had much of a choice. Sometimes, when someone has the muchness that Alice does, it can make other people's muchness act in funny ways."

"How'd you mean?"

"Well, like your muchness making you want to keep Tarrant and Alice apart."

"It is _not_ my muchness, thank you very much! It's common sense!"

"Mally," McTwisp sighed, wiping his face with a napkin, "you are the muchiest mouse I have ever had the misfortune of stumbling across. You are made up of a _lot _of muchness squished up very small. You can't help it, but you wouldn't be Mallymkun if you could. I'm certain the Hatter himself would tell you the same thing."

The dormouse drew herself up proudly. "Hatter wouldn't have to worry about me. _I_ don't need to be saved!"

Nivens smiled tiredly and yawned. "That you don't, Mally. I'd hate to be the one on the wrong side of all that condensed muchness. The White Queen should think herself lucky to have had you on her side on the Frabjous Day."

Mally yawned herself and climbed onto the saucer to snuggle up to the still-warm teacup. "Most definitely. T'would have been a pity if I had fought for the Red Queen. Why, Bayard would have... would have..." her nose rested on her paws and within moments the indomitable dormouse was snoring lightly.

* * *

The moon hung high over Marmoreal as Mirana silently crept down the stairs that led into the grand castle, the Oraculum clutched in her hands. Gone was the elaborate dress, replaced with a white tunic and silvery pants paired with a set of ivory-coloured slippers. Staying in the shadows, she made her way into the garden, seeking consul with one of her most trusted advisors.

She found him, wings flattened against a leaf and head resting with his proboscis wrapped around a foreleg. The White Queen prodded the butterfly gently with the end of the Oraculum. "I'm sorry, old friend, for the late hour. But there are pressing matters to be attended to."

Absolem opened one eye and sighed. "This had better be an emergency, Mirana." His voice had a strange echo to it, since the transformation. Mirana had ventured a theory that it was due to sound-waves resonating in the proboscis, but all she had received in return was a glare from the old insect. She nodded, opening the compendium on the damp grass.

"I'm afraid it might be."

"You're afraid it _might_ be? Child, be afraid if it _is_ an emergency, not if it _might_ be."

Mirana allowed herself a tiny smile. "Of course. Forgive my stupidity."

"Providing you hurry this meeting up so that I may return to my slumber, I shall. Butterflies are not nocturnal, you know."

"Look."

Absolem craned his head over the edge of the leaf and peered at it. Frowning, he lifted his head to look the Queen in the eye. "I have seen this day. I know of the events that take place. Why are you showing me this?"

"Because the beginning has changed," she hissed, pushing the left-hand-side of the scroll out across the lawn violently. Absolem fluttered into the air, then drifted down to take a look. His wings drooped as he beheld the images.

"This is impossible, even by Underland standards."

"This is why I came to you. What does it mean?"

"It can be interpreted in anyway. The Oraculum does not always show us _exactly_ what is to happen."

The White Queen sighed and rerolled the oracle. "Maybe so, but I'm fairly certain that you can't die on one day and bring a champion home a few months later."

"No... that is strange."

"Then what do we make of it?"

The butterfly returned to his leaf and folded his forelegs pensively. "I will meditate on this. I trust you haven't told Tarrant what you have seen?"

"No. I've been informed that he suffered another of his... episodes in the library after we left tonight. Apparently it was quite violent."

"Mirana, you must know this; Tarrant's madness will continue to deepen if the Song lasts. It is already interfering with his Path, something that should never happen. Alice is tied up in this, whether she wants to be or not... and if that mad Hatter wants to have true peace of mind, he's going to have to find her himself."

"He'll go. He might argue with himself over it, but he'll never let Alice linger in misery. I gave him the book."

Absolem's eyes narrowed. "That book was meant to remain in the library, along with the rest. Just because you are Queen doesn't give you the right to go handing out books, especially ones like that."

"He'll need the full story, Absolem, if he's going to get the Champion back. If he goes up top, he'll need the words to protect himself."

Absolem stared off into the distance, a vague expression on his face. "Words to protect him... yes, he'll need those. Words to remember, words to fight with... to fight _for._ That's what they do, up there. They fight for _words_."

"You've seen this?"

"The last time I saw Alice in England, the land of her birth. I spent a few more days, observing the world she comes from."

"And?"

The wise butterfly fluttered his wings in amusement. "It is no wonder that the poor child was so confused and befuddled when she came to Underland. Such a topsy-turvy place and such strange customs!"

The Queen laughed softly, crossing her legs as she sat down. "Was... was Alice happy, do you think?"

Absolem executed a butterfly-shrug. "She seemed resolute, if nothing else. Her muchness is still with her, I believe."

"That's something to be thankful for, at the very least."

"I think that's the _only _thing keeping her going," Absolem said softly. Mirana tipped her head to the side.

"You really think it is that bad?"

"Pure conjecture, but I wouldn't be surprised if our Champion isn't suffering her own brand of madness, staying away so long."

"It's been nine months."

"Time moves strangely here. Up top, the peoples have reigned him in, shackled him into a purely linear motion. They lose him, make him up, waste him... and there is nothing he can do about it. The magic there is weak, unlike here."

"Perhaps the Hightopps were right in closing this place off," Mirana sighed, looking up at the stars. Absolem nodded.

"It is an old story, but nonetheless accurate."

"Were you there?"

"Child, I am old, but I am not yet that old. Time will eventually catch up to me, no doubt. The trick is to stay out of his way. He forgets things, occasionally. I'm rather hoping he'll forget me."

"Time finds us all in the end, Absolem."

The butterfly stretched out its wings and set them as flat as they would allow against the leaf. "This is so, but I would prefer to stay out of his mind for a little while longer. There is still much I have yet to see."

"As do we all," Mirana replied, standing up and tucking the Oraculum into the belt of her tunic. "Fairfarren, Absolem."

"Fairfarren, child. Do not trouble yourself – that Hatter of yours will find a way to rescue your Champion... one way or another."

Mirana bowed and hurried back towards the castle, more troubled than before. When she'd seen the Path that Tarrant was destined to walk, she had been terrified for his safety. There was no sense to it – why did the Hatter have to die in order to fulfill his destiny? How was he supposed to bring Alice home if he was dead? But it was all there, clear as daylight – the order was Tarrant's death, then his return to Marmoreal, hand in hand with Alice, beaming from ear to ear.

Then there was the nature of his death. The most strange part of the whole scenario. Ascending the stairs silently, she unrolled the scroll and stared at it in puzzlement. Tarrant was definitely standing near the entrance to the rabbit hole... but then suddenly split himself in two. One half crumpled to the ground, while the other disappeared from view. But there was no rousing the one that lay unconscious. He was dead.

_It does not always show __exactly__ what is to happen..._

_Perhaps the Oraculum has things out of order? Perhaps the death is wrong? _The White Queen thought as she made her way to her private chambers. But she couldn't remember a recorded incident in the history of Underland when the oracle had been incorrect.

Still... even Absolem didn't know how to interpret the predicted death of the Hatter. Mirana arrived at her rooms and made her way inside. The royal chambers weren't overly opulent, but still managed to exude a sense of royalty. Crossing the room, she relaid the Oraculum on the lectern that had been especially crafted for it when it had been returned to Marmoreal.

Mirana stood for a moment, watching the scenes play out on the scroll in front of her. How could she do this? How could she ask this of him?

_Because you are his Queen_.

That was ridiculous. She couldn't force him.

_He won't see it as forcing him_.

True, but she would. Pushing him to his death? He'd have to know.

_It will truly be his death if he doesn't go_.

"May I be of assistance, your majesty?"

Mirana jumped slightly as Chessur appeared at her side. The cat peered around at the Oraculum. "Hmm, seems our mutual friend is in for a trying time."

"You know, the general public are not permitted within the Queen's quarters."

"Then again, _I'm _not a general public. I stay out of the conscripted services," Chessur quipped, floating on his back. "And a cat _may _look at a Queen. 'Tis an old honour extended to the earliest cats of Marmoreal and the Tulgey Wood."

"What for?"

"We drove the rats out of the castle. Tried to get the mice to leave, too. Less successful there."

Mirana smiled, thinking of Mallymkun. "I can imagine."

"I can, too. I was told the stories as a kitten. Such fun," Chessur purred, stretching and rolling over. He cast his glance back down to the Oraculum. "Are you going to tell him? Show him the Path?"

"I cannot deny him his destiny, Chess. That would be wrong."

"Also very dangerous. You can't really hope to fight Fate and win. For one thing, she's had more time to practice with a broadsword."

Mirana laughed and scratched under Chessur's chin. "I can't argue with that logic," she admitted, listening to the cat's contented purring. After a moment, she rerolled the scroll and sat down on the end of the bed. "What should I do?"

Chessur looked at her, a broad grin stretched across his face. "It seems to me, of late, that I have been doling out more than my fair share of friendly advice. But you are the Queen, so I shall answer your question. In your place, I would let Tarrant figure this out himself. What he needs, he already has. The Path for him to follow is already laid at his feet. He simply needs to take the first step."

"What about the Oraculum?"

"The Hatter has already faced death once before for his Alice. To him, this will be no different. We all have our own Paths to walk, my lady. Tarrant's seems to be a little more interesting than us mere bystanders."

"The Path we do not take is always the most interesting."

"Maybe so. But how will you know what your own Path is like unless you take it?"

Mirana watched the cat disappear into the night, leaving her with the very good advice. She couldn't stand in Tarrant's way. It wasn't her decision to make. Lying back on the bed, the White Queen stared up at the ceiling, her hands locked behind her head. _Tomorrow_, she thought sleepily. _I'll tell Tarrant tomorrow._

* * *

_Author_'s _Notes:_

Still don't own anything here. Reviews are appreciated, now that things are a little more concrete. I'd appreciate if you could check out the many wonderful fics by a friend, ninteennintytwo. I do hope I'm not boring you all.


	3. Chapter 3: Riddle of the Two Tarrants

Chapter Three

The room was in complete disarray, which was nothing unusual. Only the worktop near the window was semi-neat and organised in a rather strange way. The floor was littered with off-cuts of material and varying lengths of cord and cotton and ribbon and... it was obvious to even the most oblivious onlooker that the person who dwelt in this room had a habit of making wearable articles, insofar as the definition of wearable could be stretched.

Said person was currently flat on his back, knees pulled up and legs crossed, holding the dusty tome the White Queen had given him in the library high above his head. He'd been reading it for several hours now, the ancient rituals and rites of a clan long lost ensnaring his mind. _Somewhere in these pages... somewhere is a way to save Alice..._

The colour of the sky outside was brightening from the deep, navy blue of night to the grey-pink hue of pre-dawn. It was only when the first noises of those awakening in the castle to begin their daily duties did Tarrant realise he'd been awake all night. With a sigh, he laid the book to one side on the floor of the room, before folding his hands on his stomach. Thankfully, the malicious not-Alice had confined its obnoxious intrusion to the library and had not followed him back to his chambers that night.

His beloved hat hung upon a rather ordinary hat-stand by the door, a place no other hat was permitted to sit. _Save maybe one of hers_, Tarrant thought with a wry grin. There she was, back in his thoughts again. It was too easy to let anything remind him of his Alice... _his_ Alice? Hadn't that been the reason for all the chaos in the first place?

_You never would have realised that Alice was in trouble otherwise, would you?_ His Second Thoughts put forward sagely. The Hatter had to agree; despite the stress that the Song had caused, at least he knew he had a link to Alice and with that link, he could bring her home. It was enough to make him feel almost cheerful again.

With a sigh, he swung his legs off the bed and stood up. He hadn't bothered changing out of his day-clothes, simply because he hadn't formally Gone to Bed yet. Padding into the adjoining room, he sat down at one end of the very long tea table and poured himself a cup of Throeston Blend. The luke-warm liquid barely heated the cup as he turned it in his hands, staring down at the surface.

"Oh, Alice," he murmured, "what _am _I going to do with you?"

Suddenly, all the little noises in the castle ceased. Tarrant hadn't been aware of them before, but he noticed the _absence_ of them. He looked up from the cup and stared around the empty room, wondering if whatever caused the cessation of sound was coming for him next.

Apparently, it was.

The feeling of immense pressure building in his head struck him without warning, a buzzing sound in his ears like loud static making his brain feel like it was vibrating and he _would_ have dropped the teacup, but on the surface of the rippling drink he saw...

_She lay on the floor of the cabin; her jacket torn – she could feel the freezing air through the rips - her face smudged and unruly hair stretching out in all directions. The storm was fierce outside, but the rage of the waves had nothing on the fear she felt. In the midst of her terror, a storm was hardly likely to make a difference._

_She curled into the fetal position, tucking her knees against her chest, sliding against the wall as the ship bucked sharply from the swell. She'd been sick, not for the first time, in the corner by the bunk firmly bolted to the wall. She couldn't see any of this, her eyes were closed, but the memory was too raw, too frightening to be erased merely by pretending it wasn't happening. The smell was terrible._

_A thunderous pounding sent a fresh wave of fear flooding through her. Opening her eyes, she looked in the direction of the loud noise. The door was shaking in its frame from the impact. There was shouting, a foreign language she didn't recognise. Getting unsteadily to her feet, she made for the bunk, pressing herself against the floor and wiggling beneath._

_The pounding continued as she pulled something out from under the mattress; something hidden from where the world could see it, something intensely private. A small, ornate hat-pin with a blue butterfly carefully crafted to the top. She gripped it hard, the point pressing into her palm and drawing a drop of dark blood. Yelping quietly, she licked the wound and cuddled the pin close._

"_Find me, Hatter..." she whispered. "Please... find me..."_

"ALICE!"

The shout was a little louder than he'd expected. Time came rushing back into the room – a little embarrassed about being left outside – and suddenly the castle breathed into life again, as if nothing had happened. Tarrant held the cup of tea like someone was going to take from him. Just to be sure, though, he poked a finger around in the now-cold Throeston. Mad he might've been, stupid he was not. There was an outside chance that Alice's world might have somehow have ended up in his tea. You never knew around Underland. Stranger things _had_ happened.

Carefully replacing the cup onto its cracked saucer, Tarrant scurried back into his bedroom and picked up the library book. He paced amongst the off-cuts as he hurriedly flicked through the pages, searching for the section he had read up to, locating it almost two-thirds of the way through. He sat down on the bed as he continued reading.

_The Song of Tears (cont'd)_

_There is only one documented instance of the occasion where the Song was sung, the call made. Both parties inevitably suffered incurable madness that ended their lives. There have been rumours of successful answers to the Song, but none yet confirmed._

_The most difficult part of dealing with this ancient of enchantments is that each person's Song is different and therefore requires a unique answer in each event. Should a Hightopp be unable to answer the Call, an Earwicket must find a replacement, one who has a similar connection to the Singer._

"That's fine, but how? How do I even _get _to Alice?" Tarrant murmured, reading on.

_The Song of Tears can only be sung by those who share the closest of bonds – that of the Heart – with a Hightopp. The detailed requirements were originally written archaic Under, but a short riddle in old Outlandish was translated to read as such:_

_The first requirement is the will  
__They must want the other still  
__The second, heed the lover's call  
__To leave the land and take the fall  
__The third, to seek a Champion's claim  
__And have them seek it all the same  
__The final task to seal the pact  
__Is seek them out and take them back_

The Mad Hatter re-read the passage a few times, before thoughtfully tearing it from the book and stuffing it into his pocket. He closed the tome and tucked it neatly under his pillow, strode across the room to retrieve his hat and left in the direction of the dining hall.

He never arrived there, which was to his benefit – the Underlanders who resided in the castle rarely ate breakfast early and he would have found an empty room. Instead, he made his way to the Bandersnatch stabling area, a short distance from where Mirana's own steed was housed. Bayard was already there with his pups, herding them like cattle as they fussed and squabbled and tumbled in the straw. The bloodhound observed the Hatter's approach and met him at the door. "Well met, Hatter. What news do you bring?"

"A riddle, just the thing to start the day," Tarrant said flatly, taking the torn page from his pocket and laying on the floor in front of the dog. "What do you make of it?"

Bayard bent his head and sniffed the paper, eying it curiously. He looked back up at Tarrant. "This is from a book... an _old_ book."

"I know."

"You tore this from a book... a _library_ book?"

"Yes."

The dog stiffened. "The Queen won't like this."

"She was the one who gave me the book. It is a history of my clan... and since I'm the only remaining Hightopp, she honoured that by letting me take the book."

"And you thanked her by tearing a page out?"

"Bayard, can you help me with this or not?"

Bayard sat, giving Tarrant a level stare. "Why come to me?"

The Hatter stared at his feet. "Because you are wise. You know the ways of the Oraculum. You... you were a friend to Alice when I couldn't be there for her."

"I only played my part in her Path, friend."

"That is more than enough. Please, tell me what you think this means?"

Bayard grunted and took another look at the crumpled page. "It's an old riddle, meant to stop those who would invoke the magick it weaves by accident. For it to work, there are four parts to the answer. Whomever finishes this must complete each in turn."

"Go on," Tarrant whispered, seating himself cross-legged in front of him. Bayard read on.

"The first part... _the first requirement is the will, they must want the other still_... well, that could mean that either or both parties must still want the other in their lives. The magick may hinge on one or both wanting to be with the other."

"That's straight-forward enough," Tarrant reasoned, biting back the comment that he'd already worked that part out.

"The second and third... I can't make head nor tail of that... but the final requirement seems to mean that the person searching must find the person being searched for and bring them 'back', which could mean anything. Bring them home, bring them to Underland... it isn't clear."

"It depends on the person, the rest of the text was clear on that," Tarrant mused, as a puppy tumbled into Bayard hindquarters. The bloodhound didn't miss a beat, turning his head and righting the puppy, before returning his attention to the matter at hand.

"I wouldn't know. I haven't read the rest of this. You bring me a riddle, but parts are missing. I cannot solve what I do not know."

"I know... and I'm sorry I don't have more answers. Thank you for your help, Bayard. Give my best to Bielle, won't you?" The Hatter said, getting to his feet. Bayard nodded.

"She'd appreciate a visit from you, you know. She often speaks of you, how grateful she is for what you did for the family."

"There's nothing to be grateful for. You would have done the same in my place."

The old dog bowed his head. "Maybe. I'm not the brave young pup I once was. I can only say that you have both our thanks for your heroics at Salazen Grum. Whatever we can do for you, however small the favour... you need only ask."

"I'll... I'll keep that in mind," Tarrant muttered, his eyes flashing pink in embarrassment for a moment. Bayard gave a short bark of farewell, turning back to his puppies and sorting out the argument going on. The Hatter watched them for a moment, before turning on his heel and heading back towards the castle.

The sound of smashing crockery coming from inside told him that Thackery was awake and attending breakfast. Apparently, he was taking it to heart – everything was breaking _fast_. He jumped the final few stairs and re-entered the castle.

"Have some TEA!"

Hatter ducked smoothly as the March Hare skittered into the hall, hurled a cup at him, then lolloped off up the corridor. Mally skidded into view, giving chase. "Thackery, _come back_! The toast isn't finished yet! It's still laying out a spread!" She turned to look at Tarrant. "Oh... you're awake."

"Truthfully, I haven't actually been asleep," Tarrant replied, crouching down to converse with the dormouse. Mally sniffed.

"You've been reading that book all night, haven't you?"

"Well, not all night. Is the Queen in the dining hall?"

"Just arrived. She seemed a little agitated, but I think she'll be pleased to see you."

"Excellent." Tarrant stood, straightening his coat. He smiled winningly at Mally. "Don't worry about me. As a dear friend once told me, all the best people are mad, so that should make me the pinnacle of all that is good in this world."

Mally watched her beloved Hatter enter the dining room, sweeping off his hat in the process. She sighed; half longingly, half in sadness. "Oh, Tarrant... why are you _always_ too tall?"

* * *

Mirana wasn't surprised to see Tarrant awake so early in the morning. She could tell by the darker-than-normal rings around his eyes and the dull lustre of his irises that he hadn't slept a bit. Inviting him to sit next to her, the White Queen ran appraising eye over her Hatter. He appeared distracted; picking awkwardly at the plate set before him, forehead creased in a frown. When his hand shook as he tried to lift his cup of tea to his mouth, Mirana reached over and took it from him. "Tarrant," she said softly, "tell me what's wrong."

The words tumbled out; the not-Alice's appearance, the vision in the teacup, the riddle he had shown to Bayard. When his rambling had run out of steam, the Hatter finally mustered the effort to look the Queen in the eye, but didn't like the troubled expression she wore. It sat funny on her face and made her eyebrows wonky. She sat back in her chair, hands neatly folded in her lap. Tarrant chewed lightly on a piece of dry toast in displacement activity, waiting for her to speak.

"You found the riddle and Bayard has advised you on the first and final lines of it... but you must solve the second and third, this is correct?" Tarrant nodded and swallowed the thoroughly masticated bread. Mirana mused a little longer on this. "So... what have you established?"

"Alice made the call, so she... she..." the words were difficult to get out and Tarrant felt his throat get sticky. Mirana smiled kindly at him. "It's okay. You can say it. You know it has to be true, otherwise she'd never be able to sing the Song."

"She... she wants me. Needs me. The b-bond of the heart... I-I-I..."

"Tarrant, if you can't say it, I will. She loves you, probably as much as you love her. She never wanted to leave you and she's calling you to her now because you are her safe place. She knows you would fight the world to keep her and now she's putting that to the test. If that isn't love, then the magic is flawed."

The constriction in Tarrant's throat eased as the meaning of the words sunk in. Alice, loving him? He fought to believe that he was worthy of this, that he truly deserved the honour that Alice had allegedly bestowed on him. In his darkest fantasies, where he dreamed of things that never were, that never _could _be, he'd been with her and she with him; lost in each other, oblivious to the outside world. But he'd always drawn the line. He never brought _those_ thoughts into the light of day. Yet here the Queen sat, telling him something that he had never believed true. Because the question burned in his mind, all the time – if she had loved him, _really_ loved him, why did she leave?

"Tarrant?"

Mirana's voice dragged him from his reverie and brought him back to the dining hall. The slice of toast he'd been eating hung forgotten halfway to his mouth. The White Queen smiled kindly. "You can't say it yet, can you? For all the evidence, you can't admit it to yourself." Tarrant shook his head sadly, his mouth gummed shut with shame. Mirana poured him a fresh cup of tea and held it out to him. "Here, drink this. You'll feel better."

"Mirana." His voice was soft, barely a whisper. "Will it stop the noise in my head?"

Hot tears rose unbidden to the Queen's eyes as she pushed the cup into his hands. "Yes," she lied. As the Hatter drank the proffered beverage, Mirana silently cursed herself. Queen of the White Lie, down to the bone.

* * *

After the debacle of breakfast, Tarrant returned to his rooms to work on a new riding hat for one of the courtiers who had commissioned him. From the hands of a lesser milliner, it would be a work of art – black satin with a feather from the plumage of a Nightwing Roc with long, trailing silk ribbons at the back. In Tarrant's hands, it was about average. In a rage, he threw it against the wall, knocking the feather from the band in which it sat. He leaned against the table, the buzzing in his head hurting too much to ignore and if that wasn't enough, he could hear her calling to him...

_Find me, Hatter... please, find me..._

"Lady Argognat isn't going to be pleased with the thrashing you've just given her new bauble," came Chessur's drawl from the air beside him. The Hatter scowled as the cat popped into being beside him. "She's planning on seducing Lord Rumsfield at the next roly-polo match."

"Chess, go away. I have a headache."

"Hmm, that song still troubling you? Never had much time for music, myself. Music is the food for the soul, something to care about. But when you only care about yourself – at least, most of the time – then music is just a tiresome _bore_, really."

"Then leave me be."

"Tarrant, Mirana told me about Alice's voice. What you saw. The way ahead is clear, you know that."

"I know!" More items went flying; this time, a roll of material and a pair of scissors, the implements lodging themselves into the far wall. Chessur hissed disapprovingly.

"Temper, temper. I merely wished to convey a message. The Queen would like to see you in her chambers. Apparently, there is something she wishes to show you."

"She can wait. I have hats to make."

Suddenly, sharp claws bit into his shoulder and Tarrant yelped in surprise. Chess' head floated near his ear and his voice took on a more dangerous tone.

"Grow up, Tarrant. I've been as patient as a statue in the garden with you and now I'm growing tired with your little pity game. You need to be a man, not a dormouse. Why, even Mally isn't this afraid of what _might_ be! There was a time when you would have thrown yourself in Destiny's way if she should even _consider_ harming Alice! Where is that muchness, Tarrant? Where have you hidden it? It was here yesterday!"

"I would still stop the world for her!" The shout echoed around the room. Tarrant's eyes _burned_ as he faced the Cheshire Cat. Chess shrank back as the Hatter seemed to swell, as if he'd swallowed a lump of Upelkutchen. "There no' be a man in this world or hers who co' stop _me_ from saving _her_!"

"Then why are you hiding?"

"_Because I LOVE her_!" The words fell out of his mouth before he could stop them and he grabbed frantically at his mouth to hold them in. But it was too late; Chess had heard them and hovered a little way from him, grinning broadly.

"You found it, then. The truth you didn't want to admit."

Tarrant sank to the floor, his face in his hands. "A heart bond, even in the days before Horunvendush Day, was an important thing. As young as I was, I knew the meaning of a heart bond. I'd never considered it with another Underlander... not even her Majesty, lovely as she is. But Alice..." he trailed off, his hands waving aimlessly in the space in front of him, as if to indicate a point. Chess nodded sympathetically.

"Go on."

"I waited for her to come back, but the memory of her... it changed, it twisted... I can't remember those days very well anymore."

"But you remember her as she was when you last saw her?"

"Like she was just in the room, Chess. Like she was standing in front of me, wearing that armor and promising me she'd come back. That she'd remember."

"Tarrant, she hasn't forgotten. She's calling you to her."

"Maybe it's not _me_ she wants. Maybe it's just Underland! The only reason I can think of her wanting me is to get back here!" He was crying now. "And I'll go. I'll go like the whipped pup I am. I'll go to her and I'll bring her home. I won't think twice about it and I'll have to give her up again."

"Will she be worth it?"

The Hatter nodded and hiccuped. "Of course she will."

"Then why are you still here?"

* * *

Mirana was seated at her desk when Tarrant knocked gently on her door frame. She smiled benevolently as the Hatter removed his top hat and inclined his head slightly. "You sent for me."

"I did."

"You also lied about the tea."

"I did that also."

"Chessur stuck his _slurvish_ claws into my shoulder."

"That," Mirana said, standing up, "is something you will have to take up with the Cat. But while you await a further altercation with him, I _do _have something to show you." She moved fluidly to the open Oraculum on the stand. Tarrant shifted uneasily in the doorway, eyes flickering around the room. The White Queen allowed herself a small grin. "You _are_ welcome to enter my chambers, Tarrant. I have no secrets from you."

Nervously, Tarrant quick-stepped inside the room, gripping his hat for support. In answer to a summoning wave of Mirana's hand, he padded lightly over to the Oraculum. The Queen spread it open on the stand and moved aside to allow him to view it. "You may want to prepare yourself. This won't be easy to see."

Steeling his nerves – or what was left of them – Tarrant forced himself to look down. He watched the scene of his supposed death for a few moment, before his eyes were drawn to his return to Marmoreal with Alice. Almost unbidden, his hand reached out and touched the image, caressing the moving picture of the girl gently. His fingertips slid over the mass of curls moving slightly as she walked and, as if she could feel him there, turned to the Hatter in the scene and smiled warmly at him. Tarrant felt his other hand ball into a fist as he fought back the tears. Mirana laid a hand on his shoulder. "Do you want to sit down?"

The Hatter silently nodded and allowed himself to be led to the chair the White Queen had been sitting in when he had arrived. After collecting his thoughts for a moment, he spoke. "I have questions."

"I realise that. I will answer them if I can."

"Am I going to die?"

"It seems that way, yes."

"That would... worry some people."

"You have faced death many times, Tarrant. Are you truly afraid now?"

He thought for a moment. "No... I don't think I am. At least, I don't feel it. Not how I would expect to feel it, anyway."

"Because you know what comes next?"

He nodded. "The Oraculum doesn't lie. That's definitely Alice with me, coming home to Marmoreal... and we're happy. Oh..." Tarrant's voice faltered for a moment, "do you think there's a Marmoreal waiting in the Next World?"

Mirana chuckled. "I'm hopeful that this is the only Marmoreal in this or any other world, Tarrant."

"But how..."

"Only you can decide that. This is only the Path – it is up to you how you decide to walk it."

Tarrant sat back in the chair, his hands folded in his lap. "I have to go, but if I go, I will die."

"Part of you dies. You were divided, the half left behind perished. It isn't clear what happens to the other half."

"But how can a man exist if he is incomplete?"

"You will find a way. You must. For her sake."

"Are you asking me to go?"

"Tarrant..."

"Mirana." The White Queen started at the use of her given name, but the Hatter continued. "I need to know. If I go, if I leave this place, will you be safe? Will you be able to protect yourself and those who reside here? Steward-Champion you named me in Alice's absence. Will you hold me to that now?"

"I would charge you thusly – bring home the rightful Champion and you will be relieved of your vows," Mirana replied, a slight edge to her voice. Tarrant's face softened slightly and he afforded her a small smile.

"Thank ye, milady. I'll do as ye bid," he said softly, the brogue colouring his words. Mirana breathed a sigh. All in all, this had gone better than she had expected. Tomorrow, she would advise McTwisp to bring back in the breakables.

"When will you leave for the Aboveland, then?"

A moment's pause. "Tomorrow, if that is agreeable. I would like a night to prepare."

"Tomorrow will be fine, Hatter. You are free to leave."

Tarrant stood, bowed to the Queen, then replaced his hat on his head and left the room with all speed that dignity would allow. Once outside, he grabbed at his chest and gasped for air, heart racing. _Leave_ Underland? Tomorrow? What _had _he been thinking?

He hadn't. Therein lay his problem.

Dying? Small price to pay for that scenario with Alice. That perfect moment of happiness. He had her, she had him. Perfect.

Except he'd never lived that existence. He thought he might have, once, when Frabjous Day had come and Alice had returned to Underland. But she'd left as quickly as she'd appeared, without so much as looking back, taking with her the hopes of that happiness. Tarrant narrowed his eyes. This was a chance, was it not? A chance to get her back. A chance to try again. This time, he wouldn't let her go. He'd keep her.

"Are you so sure about that?"

The voice was coming from behind him and the Hatter felt his stomach churn, a chill racing down his spine. _Face it. It has no control over you. For Alice's sake, you need to face it!_

He turned and looked up. On the wall hung a portrait of Mirana's father, the former White King of Marmoreal. But his face looked like it had been through a butter-churner... and now he had long, straggly curls... _oh no..._

The not-Alice laughed. "Look at me! King of Wonders!"

"Emperor of Madness, more likely," Tarrant said coldly. The not-Alice gave this comment a thoughtful expression.

"I like that. King of Wonders, Emperor of Madness."

"But you're stealing Alice's form and warping it."

"Ooh, the Hatter has gender issues."

"Shut up and go away."

"Afraid you're running to your death, Tarrant? That headache of yours is going to kill _someone_, you know that. Even if it isn't you."

"You'll die when I am gone. You realise that?"

The painting birthed the hideous delusion and it tumbled to the floor ungainly, slithering upright like an oily ghost. "I don't fear death. Only those alive fear death. I have seen the now, the then, the after. They all look the same to me."

"Why am I not surprised?"

The not-Alice bit it's lip, causing blood to ooze anew from it. "Spoilsport. I only came to tell you this – you're missing something."

"And what would that be?" Tarrant asked, but it was too late. The vision had faded, leaving him in the empty hall once again, a mind full of questions and a heart fit to break.

* * *

_Author's Notes_:

Hopefully this answers some more questions. The formatting seems to be an issue, so be assured that I'll be re-reading this chapter and fixing it over the next couple of days where it needs it. I did promise this would be up today. Insofar as a soundtrack goes, I would like to recommend couple of songs: Sweet Sacrifice by Evanescence, Downfall by Matchbox Twenty, Incomplete by Backstreet Boys. Reviews are, as always, appreciated. Any questions? PM me. I don't own the rights to Alice.


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